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A pause. Then Arrik shook his head and laughed softly. “A true dragon. I shall see what I can do.”

Time ticked by slowly and half an hour later, a guard came in and reluctantly handed her a bowl of fire-roasted lamb that set her stomach growling. She stared at the meat. That was one thing she could say about the prince: he did not lie.

The mad boy approached immediately. “You cannot possibly eat all that by your lonesome.”

“Of course not,” Wren replied, rolling her eyes before ripping off some of the meat and pushing it through the bars of the cell to her companion. His eyes gleamed, fixated on the steaming meat.

“You are a true princess. A princess of smoking meat.”

She could not stop herself laughing at the comment, nor at the way the boy scoffed down the lamb without taking a breath. Wren ate far more slowly, chewing on the same piece of meat over and over again before swallowing.

After all, most of the lamb was not for her nor for the boy.

Hopefully, the dragon was hungry.

28

Arrik

He paced in his room, his gaze moving to the empty blankets and bed. It felt wrong that Wren wasn’t here with him. How had that happened? She was a tool to be used to thwart his father. Now, she’d become something else…something Arrik longed to possess.

Even now her scent seemed to permeate the room, driving him mad. He dropped down into his chair and stared blankly at the bed. Tonight hadn’t gone like he’d planned. His father had been in a foul mood and as soon as Wren had walked into the room, his attention had homed in on her.

The image of Wren standing in the dungeon in her gown and jewels flashed through his mind. She didn’t belong there. Arrik growled and stood back up. He stared at his door. What good was it being the king’s favorite son if he didn’t take advantage of it? Wren washiswife. She’d done nothing wrong and Arrik would be damned if he let her sit for a moment longer in the dungeon.

She belonged here, with him.

29

Wren

“Aprincess in rags, now a prisoner in riches,” the boy commented. He whistled. “That is some dress you have on.”

“Charming. What of it?” she grouched.

“Do you not wish to tell me how your status changed?”

“Do you actually wish to hear it?”

“But of course!” the boy insisted, jumping to his feet to emphasize his enthusiasm. His eyes gleamed in Wren’s direction. “Considering the prince of nothing just showed up for some…conversation…”

Wren clucked her tongue, disgusted. “I did not do what you are thinking. Nothing even close.”

“So, what, then?”

“It’s something even worse.”

At this, the mad boy seemed to grow genuinely interested. “What is worse than diving beneath the sheets with one’s enemy?”

“Marrying them.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Wren also got to her feet, somehow affronted by the boy’s lack of a reaction. “Oh? Is that all you can say to such a horrific thing happening to me?”

“You’re surely clever enough to know that being married to the enemy does not have to be a bad thing. The line between enemy and lover is very fine indeed.”

So stunned at the comment, Wren took a step backward. What he’d said was not a riddle or a jibe. It was a genuine, sane statement. She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. “You are…not what you seem, are you?”